


Dark Falls Soon In December

by lindenwaverly



Series: The Long Thanksgiving [2]
Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman - Fandom, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Christmas, F/F, batgirlfriends, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:17:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindenwaverly/pseuds/lindenwaverly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steph is the feeling when all the lights get turned on at Christmas and Cass can't explain that.<br/>Matters are complicated further by the arrival of Jason Todd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Falls Soon In December

_“He had been walking for a long time, ever since dark in fact, and dark falls soon in December.”_

_― Charlotte Riddell_

Christmas was still all sorts of new to Cass, both exhilarating with the lights and the presents and the parties and terrifying with the worry of what to get people (and mistletoe because she was never, ever going to kiss Damian no matter how much Dick said she had to). Snow was something old but then again, who ever really got tired of snow?

Steph’s head appeared above the snow bank. She peered cautiously around, then ducked back down again. Cass watched as she crawled out on her hands and her knees, one arm awkwardly cupping a handful of snowballs to her chest. She slowly straightened up. Flicked her hair out. Relaxed.

Then Cass swooped out of the tree and attacked.

Steph ran shrieking between the trees, flinging her snowballs up into the air and she followed, swinging from tree to tree, her mouth full of snow and her eyes full of reflected frost light, searching amongst the trees for a streak of blonde.

“The battle raged on for many days and many a good snowball was lost.” Cass spun in the direction of the voice, leaping up and catching hold of another branch. “But did our young Stephanie give up? Never! She would never surrender to the fearsome Cassandra-aaargh!”

She leapt on her and the two of them were tumbling to the ground, rolling down the hill with Steph’s laughter pressed into her neck and her hands on her back, their shrieks mingling together until Cass couldn’t tell who was making which sound anymore.

When they reached the bottom they lay there together, fingers entwined. If she raised her head just a few inches she could see the manor, lit up for the party later that night. The light was growing indigo and heavy, the shapes of the trees blurring together.

“It’s getting spooky,” whispered Steph.

“I’ll protect you.”

“You? You just attacked me, you monster. You’re the spookiest thing in this forest.”

She just smiled. After a few seconds she felt Stephanie shift, and her legs and arms began to move in strange patterns, like she was swimming on the ground.

“Why?”

“Snow angels. You know snow angels, right? You move your arms up and down and your legs in and out and you make the shape of an angel in the snow.”

 

Cass felt like the shape of an angel had been in the snow the minute that Steph lay down but she wasn’t sure if she said it that it would come out like she wanted it to so she lay there and made her own snow angel, their fingers still curled around each other.

 

* * *

 

“You have to let me paint your nails,” said Steph. “It’s the rule of getting ready together.”

“I though the rule was that I can never tell anyone that you have to turn your bra round when you’re putting it round.”

“That’s the other rule, Cassandra. And shhhhh. Now stretch out your hand and tell me which colour you want.”

“Silver.”

She gave her one of her dazzling smiles. “Cool! I’ll have silver too, and then we can match. It’ll be like a secret club.”

She was wearing purple – of course – high necked with a lace back and long lace sleeves. Strappy silver shoes and a thin silver chain round her wrist. With the gold of her hair, Cassandra didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone look so precious. She was wearing black, a plain, loose number with spaghetti straps and a low back that made her feel comfortable. Steph had painted her eyes with thick black khol and told her she looked smouldering.

Damian barged in without knocking. “Hide me. I’m throwing myself upon your mercy. Grayson is trying to choose a waistcoat for me. Please don’t leave me to his fashion sense.”

“Back off, demon child,” said Steph. “This is only girls allowed.”

Damian sighed. “All right, Miss Brown. You drive a hard bargain. Let’s see if we can’t strike a deal.” He drew in a long breath and drew himself up. “If you let me stay here, then I agree to be   _fussed over_.”

“Hmm, little monster. You talk big, but I don’t think that letting us play with your hair and ask you whether you’ve got a girlfriend will quite make up for interrupting our girl time.”

He scowled. “All right. What’s your counter-proposal?”

Steph picked up the box of nail polish and waggled it at him.  His face fell.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Tell me, what’s the waistcoat like? Polka-dot? Chequered?”

Damian’s face contorted in a way that didn’t look very healthy to Cass. “Candy-striped.”

 

“Then pull up a chair, angel. We’ve got a manicure to do.”

* * *

 

 

They lasted five minutes before she, Steph and Tim ended up huddled on top of one of the heavy, mock-Tudor beams of the great hall, passing around a bottle of stolen champagne.

“Damn,” said Steph, pointing to a tastemaker from Metropolis. “Does that hat double as a gravy boat?”

“Sure hope so,” said Tim, “because if she was trying to make a fashion statement then she wasted a lot of money.”

“And – oh my god, Cass, what does that necklace look like to you?”

“A tin can on a string.”

“I think it’s literally a tin can on a string. Covered in diamonds. Tim, tell me I’m not hallucinating. That necklace is literally diamond covered junk.”

“Mind if I join you?” came a voice from the balcony. “This looks like it’s where the party is.”

Tim made a noise that was halfway between a greeting and a sob. Jason Todd was there, leaning against the railings, his hair falling in his eyes.

“Sure,” said Tim. “Come on up.”

He leapt nimbly onto their beam. Without climbing over the three of them he was stuck next to Tim. His body said  _I don’t want to be here_ but also   _Am I doing the right thing_ and   _I don’t want them not to like me._  

This was new.

He settled down gingerly, kicking his legs. “I’m assuming it was one of you who put “You’re a Mean One, Mr Grinch” on the playlist.”

Tim laughed. “Seriously? That just happened?”

“Uh huh. Only the waiters realised, I think, but they’re in fits.”

Tim smiled and played with his hair. “I’m afraid I can’t take credit. Steph? Cass?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“No.”

“Probably Damian, then.”

Jason laughed, and his body said _fond_  and _relaxed_  and   _I have a handgun in the left side pocket of my jacket_  (she would make sure to keep an eye on that). “You’ve got to admire the kid sometimes. He’s got game.”

Steph snorted. “Didn’t you say that about Dick once? Right before you tried to kill him?”

Tim looked scandalised, but he just laughed. “He tells that story all wrong. I was trying to warn him. He was trying to kill me. Or… arrest me. Or something.”

“Either way,” said Steph, “I reckon he’d rather be out there now fighting you than warding off these women trying to corner him under the mistletoe.”

“Goldie? Nah, look at him. He’s eating it up.”

“It’s strange that mistletoe should have become a romantic tradition,” said Tim, “because the ancient Druids believed that cutting mistletoe was actually akin to castrating the oak-god and used it as a good luck charm and I’m going to shut up about ancient Celtic castration rites in three, two, one, now.”

Jason was laughing at him. “Wow, replacement, you really do have a fact for everything, don’t you?”

“I’ve been reading up on Christmas.”

“It’s your favourite holiday or something?”

“Not really. I’m Jewish.”

“Damn. No Christmas presents for you.”

“Not really. I celebrate with the rest of them. I just occasionally make obnoxious comments in Hebrew under my breath whenever Dick’s “holiday spirit” gets a bit out of hand.”

Cass wished Steph could read body language because this scene was a lot funnier if you could see that both of them were almost screaming   _Please please please don’t kill me Jesus Christ why am I even talking to you you’re the worst person ever ._

But they were talking, and it was strange and nervous and nice in its own way, even if Tim was trying a little bit too hard to be funny and Jason’s hands kept going to check for his cigarettes and his gun, endlessly moving from pocket to pocket.

Steph elbowed Tim. “Come on, Boy Party Pooper. I want to dance.”

Tim rolled his eyes and hunched his shoulders. “I don’t dance. I’m Tim Drake-Wayne. I stand in the corners and smile enigmatically and start dazzling rumours about my love life.”

Jason whistled. “Well, get you. Hey batblonde, you know how to waltz?”

“Um…. Kinda?”

“Come on down and I’ll teach you properly. It’s been ages since I got to go to something like this.”

He was needling at Tim, testing just how far his willingness to get along would go, but Tim just smiled and motioned for Steph to go down and have fun. Cass shifted up next to him and watched them twirl around the dance floor, Jason dipping Steph and making her shriek with laughter.

“What do you make of him, Cass?”

Cass made a lot of things of him, but she decided that tonight was a night to try and be comforting.

 

“He seems fairly unlikely to kill you. Tonight, anyway.”

 

* * *

 

 

The last guests left around three, and the mess was cleared by a silent army of servants in ten minutes. Cass stood in the dark hall, staring up at the lights on the Christmas tree.

“Cass?” She spun, suddenly shocked, and nearly lost her balance in her heels. Steph was there, leaning on the balcony. “Are you going to bed?”

She shook her head. “Looking at the tree.”

“Oh. Ok.” She came down into the hall and stood by her. When Cass looked over, she had her eyes shut and was nodding her head to the music still playing faintly from the end of the hall.

“Ugh, I’m so glad this finally came on.”

“Huh?”

She opened her eyes and gave her a wicked look. “It’s the Edward Scissorhands theme tune. Cheesy, I know, but I love it. I snuck it on the party playlist when Tim wasn’t looking.”

She kicked off her shoes and began to twirl across the hall, her arms loose and languid. Cass watched her move in and out of the shadow. She moved like wind. She moved like water, so different from when she was fighting and scared and unsure of herself.

“Hey Cass, you know how to waltz?”

“No.”

“Here.” Steph ran over and looped an arm round her waist. “No you do the same to me – yeah, that’s it. Now hold your hand out here. A little lower. Yeah, that’s more like it. Now come a little closer. Now move your feet – follow mine, see? When I move mine back, you move your forward so we’re moving together. There. You’ve got it. Now we just have to move around while we’re – Jeez, you’re a natural.”

The song stopped and started over again and they moved slowly round the room, past the rows of portraits of solemn past Waynes and bug-eyed children holding dead birds or lemons. Steph had her eyes closed again, so she watched her face, studied the small smile that played across her lips and drew her closer against her.

Steph opened her eyes and smiled. “You ok, Cassie?”

And Cass didn’t know how to communicate this mixture of very ok and entirely un-ok she was, so she looked up and said the first thing that she saw.

“Mistletoe.”

Steph looked up and laughed. “Damn, you’re right. For luck, then?”

Cass smiled and shut her eyes. There was a second when she wasn’t sure that Steph was still there and maybe she had made a terrible mistake, and then there was another pair of lips and they were good, so Cass moved a hand up to her neck behind all that glorious hair and made sure the lips stayed there. The hand that was on her hips stayed but the hand that had been holding hers went up and tangled in Cass’s hair, and then they were so much closer and she was holding Steph against a wall and she’d never known lips could be this soft and this close.

One of Steph’s hands was on her bare back stroking up and down and it felt like there were trails of electricity being left by her touch. The other one was on the outside of her thigh making lazy circles with her thumb that made Cass want to whimper and then Steph was pressing against her and she didn’t need to open her eyes to see what she was feeling because her breath was coming too fast and she could feel the heat coming off her.

Then suddenly Steph pushed her away, her eyes wide.

“Cass, I’m sorry – Tim – I’m sorry – You can’t.”

But her body said _Get away keep away this should never ever have happened ._ Cass turned to run away but her heels were stupid and slipped and when she tried to kick them off the ankle straps stuck and she nearly tripped, her stomach lurching with more than just gravity. She finally managed to kick them off, stamping on them in useless rage. Her eyes stung but she just wiped them away, unbothered, and ran up the stairs.

 

On the top landing she turned and saw Steph picking up her shoes from the bottom of the Christmas tree.

 

* * *

 

 

“Caa-aaas,” crooned Dick from the end of the bed. “You have to get up. Santa’s been.”

“This is hell,” said Damian, who had somehow suspended himself from her ceiling fan without her noticing him. “Grayson has gone mad. He’d found some Christmas lights that were obviously forged in the depths of hell that actually _sing ._ In elf voices. And flash in time to the music.”

She’d been given carbon fibre throwing knives, a book of Grimm’s fairy tales, _Broadcast and the Focus Group Investigate Witch Cults of the Radio Age,_ a bar of dark chocolate and a long necklace of black jet and thin gold chains. Bruce’s money, Alfred’s choice. She hugged them both – Alfred soft and warm, Bruce stiff but still able to hug her back. Damian was still hanging upside down from the ceiling, swaying out of the way as he dodged the presents that Dick threw at him. Tim was –

Tim was staring anxiously out of the window. She wondered over to join him.

“Will he come?”

He shook his head. “Alfred asked again, I think – he’s volunteering at a homeless shelter.”

“… Steph?”

He grimaced. “No. She wants to spend Christmas with her mom this year. She… she sent me a present.” He was holding it between his hands, she realised, rubbing his fingers over the plastic casing. “It’s her favourite album from when she was a kid.”

“And you?”

“I sent her a necklace. It had a purple stone, you know? Seemed her kind of thing.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she ran to the tree, pulled out his present and returned. “Happy Christmas.”

He unwrapped it slowly. “Cass – “

“You said you needed one.”

“This is one of the most expensive microscopes in the world.”

“You liked it.”

“Cass – “

 

She walked away. Her eyes were stinging again. She brushed it off.

 

* * *

 

Jason finally turned up right after dinner.

Cass heard him first, but it was Dick who was out of his chair and running towards the door before anyone else had even registered it.

He was hovering in the hallway, the door open but slightly too scared to walk through it, when Dick picked him up and swirled him round in a hug. Jason squirmed awkwardly around in his arms.

“Geddof, Goldie.”

“Happy Christmas, Little Wing.”

“I didn’t buy you a present and I’m not going to sing.”

“You’re full of holiday spirit, aren’t you?”

“My holiday spirit is going to come from that bottle Bruce keeps in his desk and thinks we don’t know about.”

“I’ll fight you for it,” said Bruce, appearing out of the shadows and doing the thing where he wanted to blush but had expertly trained his face out of showing emotion.

Jason gave a thin smile and just patted him on the shoulder. “Take note, Dick. This – you see the awkward shoulder pat thing? This is an acceptable way to greet people. Not the whirling python thing you do.”

“I’m a cuddler. It just can’t be helped.”

“Oh thank god,” said Tim, appearing in the door. “Jason, you’re not festive, right? Come dampen Alfred’s spirit. He’s eating a plate of brandy butter. Just brandy butter.”

 _Please let me give you an out of this situation don’t worry I’m not trying to be your friend_ said Tim.

 _Why am I pleased to see you_ said Jason.

They played Monopoly because Alfred looked sad until they did and because on special occasions they liked to pretend to be boring. Halfway through she texted Steph about Tim’s obsessive money counting.

“Hey, replacement. Stay sharp. It’s $1500 for Park Ave. Take it or leave it.”

Tim’s brow furled. “Seriously, replacement? I thought you’d moved on to pretender now.”

“Pretender, replacement, I like to switch it up. Now quit stalling.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

“Oooh, you sure you want to do that?”

“Stop trying to throw my game off, Jason.”

“When I finally burn this house to the ground,” said Damian through gritted teeth. “I’m going to start with the fucking board game cupboard.”

“Wouldn’t spread,” said Tim cheerfully. “The wood’s too thick.”

“That’s just for my personal satisfaction. The real fire is going to be started in your bedroom.”

“Now this?” said Dick. “This will always be Christmas to me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to enjoy a seasonal holiday without any death threats.”

“I’ll be happy to oblige, Goldie,” muttered Jason under his breath.

 

* * *

Steph texted her  _Merry Christmas!!_ around midnight and she waited and waited and stared at the phone but she didn't have anything else to say.

 


End file.
